


Wreckage

by RooOJoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 08:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20042779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RooOJoy/pseuds/RooOJoy
Summary: After the Final Battle, all Harry can think to do is claim solitude in a quiet place. His thoughts, conscious or not, plague him as the festering wound inside his soul flairs. The only thing to soothe the ache is the touch of her.





	Wreckage

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my fellow Harmony lovers! A big shout to AlexandraO and her admin team for hitting 2k members. I'm honored to help celebrate with this fest. As always, I do not own anything in the HP verse, but I am so grateful that we are allowed to play in the world she created. 
> 
> My heart, and this story, would not be the same if it weren't for the amount of love Rosella_Burgundy constantly gives. She is the brightest gem, and she's the BEST Alpha/Beta, but an even better friend.

Wreckage by RooOJoy

Harry stood shivering against the broken wall. Shattered rubble lay haphazardly across the floor. The chill of the May dawn wasn’t what left him shaking, it was the Dark magic permeating the grounds, the castle, the very soul of Hogwarts. He could feel it in his bones, quaking under the intensity of flight. He had wanted to leave the Great Hall quickly after the end, but his feet would not carry him from the scene. Some began to cheer Voldemort’s death, while his followers fled away in haste. Most dropped to their knees in gratitude of the end and in pain of what they had lost to get here. 

The sobbing was all too consuming. He could hear it from every angle he turned - weeping from the death of a loved one, crying out in pain from an injury, the low whimpering of another life slowly fading away. The end of the Dark Lord was nowhere near done. The destruction he caused across the country and beyond was disturbing, but the vast Dark imprint he left on the magical walls of Hogwarts was immeasurable. 

A group of eight stood around one body, the Weasleys all holding onto each other as though if they let go another would be swept from them against their will. The sight left a whole new pain, more raw and deep than he knew was possible. Fred was gone; George had lost his twin brother, his best friend. Molly and Arthur had lost their son, and the rest of the family held a pain of not just losing their brother too, but the immense empathy of what George was feeling at the moment. The air around them was thick with agony. 

He moved carefully across the cracked flooring, avoiding large chunks of stone and gouged wooden beams from what used to be apart of the ceiling. One of the doors to the great hall was smoking slightly, a slow-burning coming from the top, remnants of a rogue curse. Once in the Entrance Hall, he wrapped the Invisibility Cloak around him, pulling the fabric over his head, thankful that the chance of bumping into someone here was much less. 

Looking back at the destruction of what used to be the happiest place inside of Hogwarts, the scene was sombre. It left him feeling more at a loss than he ever had while hunting for Voldemort’s Horcruxes. The physical discomfort was something he didn’t know. Sure, he had painfully hurt himself during Quidditch, endured torture from the hands of many others, but this was different. His gut clenched and unclenched as though his heart had been thrown from his chest to live in the bowels of his stomach acid. The breath in his lungs was strained - he had inhaled shakily as though his body refused to let him get a deep lungful. Every part of himself that he focused on hurt - his muscles ached, his bones burned, his skin aflame. 

Scanning the crowd, his eyes fell on the form of his best friend. The girl who had always stood by his side even when she, herself, had wondered if he would succeed in the right ending. He watched her kneel between the married couple of Remus and Tonks, her eyes closed and her hands resting lightly on both of their lifeless bodies.

Another wave of sickness rolled over him, and he fought back the rise of bile. He could not remove his eyes from her form - she was so skinny, her clothes tattered, dirty, and burnt in places, her hair a wild, matted mess. The crowd around her began to blur, but he could not break his gaze from the girl. 

She opened her eyes then, a thoughtful look on her face before she began to turn her head around the hall looking for something . . . or rather someone. Her eyes fixed on him suddenly, and he had to remind himself that he was indeed covered with the cloak. Harry’s heart fell flat for only a moment before the fear of being noticed missing increased. Turning on his heel, away from her scrutiny, he left and made his way haphazardly through the rubble of Hogwarts. 

The staircase, no longer moving, would have made his progress upwards easier, but the missing steps and broken railings left the journey treacherous. He didn’t have a destination in mind, he just knew he had to get away. As he climbed, the feeling became all too consuming. The wreckage of war was everywhere: bodies of men, women, and children were at every turn. Walls, either crumbling down or bearing deep gouges and burn marks in them from curses and giants clubs. Windows, the glass shattered, littering the floor like gems as the early morning sun sparkled off of them. 

He found himself standing next to a gaping hole in the wall of the fifth-floor corridor. At one time there was a window here, looking into the distance of the Forbidden Forest. He could see trees glowing as if on fire and vaguely thought that may be where the Acromantula nest was located. Below on the grounds, he took in the scene, the same wreckage as the hallways, and he inhaled sharply at the image. The spasm of sickness took him suddenly as the scent of blood assaulted his nose. 

He barely removed the cloak before the contents of his stomach emptied itself. Dropping to his knees, he heaved until his eyes watered, nose ran, and nothing left could come up - then he sat back to catch his breath. So many had died, so many had given their lives. He could have saved them, he should have died rather than them. The hot tears streaming down his cheeks angered him more than anything. He had no right to feel pain, not when these lifeless bodies that would never feel a thing again were taken from this world prematurely and unnecessarily. 

Eyes pricking with wetness, he noticed an empty portrait across from him, the framing slightly off the wall, and beyond it, was light. Ever the curious one, and silently grateful for the distraction of his self-pity, he moved forward on hands and knees and pulled weakly on the frame. As it moved, he noticed a small alcove that led to a balcony. Crawling inside, his body too weak to carry him on his feet, he pulled his cloak up to his shoulders and closed his eyes, hoping his sheer exhaustion would take him from this world for just a bit of blessed sleep. 

His lids fluttered, sleep taking him almost immediately. The scene that played in his mind was real - this was not a dream he told himself. Fighting broke out, he could hear the chaos, the floor shaking beneath him. He couldn’t get up, he couldn't get to them - more people would die. The weight of the cloak lay heavily over him, making him solid as stone and invisible to anyone. The only thing he could do was scream, so he began to yell hoping that someone would find him and release him from this hold. Only a matter of seconds passed before an all too familiar voice was by his side. 

“Harry! Harry, you’re okay.” She was gripping his arm, gently shaking him, and all he kept thinking was why she wasn’t releasing him from this hold so they could fight. “Harry, wake up!” 

Realizing he was, in fact, sleeping, and this _ was _ very much a dream, he quickly forced his eyelids open, making his consciousness aware of reality. She was looking at him, tears in her eyes, her lower lip shaking as it did right before she would cry. There was so much racing through his brain - the how and why of it all: why had he survived, how were they to go on? Coursing through his body was the physical pain and the deep agony of loss, and there was so much weight upon his soul. A niggling thought wondered what the effects of Voldemort’s soul finally being banished from his own would be. Right now, all he felt was too emotionally raw, and it was uncomfortable, to say the least. 

Her eyes, her golden-brown irises, bored into his, seeking reassurance. She filled him with comfort in a moment that he didn’t know what was happening inside him, and all he yearned to do was wrap his arms around her. So he did, he reached out and pulled her close against him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his torso, and she laid her head on his chest. Her tears quickly flowed, the wetness soaking his cotton shirt. He didn’t care though, the comfort he felt from holding her while she let go of her agony was worth it. He pulled her tighter, brushing a wave of frizzled hair away from their faces, but let his hand linger against her cheek.

At that moment, looking down into her face that held a trust that almost hurt his soul, he knew he wanted more. This woman had been by his side for his entire life here in the magical world. Being on the run, hunting for Horcruxes, and fighting battles right alongside him - she was his rock. He couldn’t look away and met her eyes as his thumb stroked a tear from her chin. He wasn’t sure what pulled him to do so, but he tilted her chin up and met her lips with his own. It was just a light pressing, and he hesitated, their breaths mingling together, eyes still locked. When she didn’t tense against him, he kissed her again, this time harder and to his surprise, she responded. 

It was slow at first but as her arms tightened around him and her lips parted, he took full advantage and begun to kiss her deeply, their tongues lapping against each other with such ease. This was what he needed, to just feel in the moment, the skin under his hands and the ache in his heart beating slowly in the background. She gave him this, she was able to ease the intense pain and emptiness inside him. They broke apart for a moment, both panting for breath, and she looked away her cheeks betraying her embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, Hermione. I hope that was okay, I don’t really know why I did that, but I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Her eyes softened as she looked back to him, and his heart beat furiously in his chest, worried that he had just buggered up the most important relationship in his life. 

Smiling, she said, “I would've hexed you if I had minded.” 

Shocked, he sat there, staring dumbly at her. After a few slow blinks, he realized they were still wrapped up in each other's arms. “So,” he hesitated, his stomach rolling in nervous anticipation, but his daring nature won over, “could I kiss you again?” 

The slow nod of her head made her curls bounce slightly. He moved his hands from around her waist and cradled her face in them. Their lips moved together and he couldn’t explain why this was all he needed, but it was. Finally, for a blessed moment, he didn’t hear screams of pain, he only heard the soft breathing of the body pressed against him. He didn’t feel the ache through his body, but a warm chill that ran over his skin and a pleasant throb in his groin. 

His body responded eagerly to her and somehow, they ended up lying on the floor with him partially on top of her. She gripped the hair at the nape of his neck pulling him closer to her as he licked and sucked against the skin of her neck. Her throaty moan was all it took for him to grind himself against her thigh and she gasped in response. 

Pulling back in surprise, he half wanted to explain, and the other part of him wanted to cover her mouth with his own and take what he needed from her. Knowing he should be ashamed with himself for the thought, he began to roll away from her. Her eyes were blown wide, and her lips were swollen; he noticed where he had been suckling her neck, there was a red mark. He wasn’t expecting what she did next, and he was grateful that she took charge, letting him for once not be the saviour. 

She rolled over, pinning her body against him as she straddled his waist. He looked up to her as she sat atop him, his erection twitching beneath her weight. Placing her hands on his chest, she queried, “Harry, I know I’m usually a few steps ahead of you, right?” Her tone was joking, and she smirked at him with her question. He nodded dumbly. “Then let me give this to you. Let’s forget just for a little bit . . . please? I need it too.”

Wrapping his palms around her own, he tugged her down so they were face to face and kissed her in response. Running his hands up and down her sides, he helped her remove her top and bra and removed his own shirt too. Looking at him, she gnawed at her lip, a question brimming in her eyes. Watching in fascination as she warred with herself, he noticed the moment the daring lioness came out. She smiled shyly at him and lowered herself until her nipples brushed lightly against his chest and then she began to lick and nip at his neck. 

The warming he felt on his skin as she pressed her own burning flesh to his was tantalizing. He couldn’t stop the rush and, for a moment, he did forget everything around him except this glorious witch and what she was doing to him. She sucked against his neck, moving down his chest where her hands never stopped roaming his body. She dipped lower, and he groaned as she pressed her bare chest against his now throbbing bulge. 

Making quick work of his trousers, she soon had them off along with his pants. He was bare to her and for only a moment he felt self-conscious, but she wrapped her palm around him and began to stroke him. All he could do was drop his head soundly against the ground, close his eyes, and hope to whatever gods there were that he wouldn’t make an arse of himself. He let his mind go as her mouth wrapped around him, enjoying the feeling of her tongue pressed hard against his cock. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer with her doing this to him - she was perfect, and he wanted to make her feel like this - he wanted to take her pain from her just the way she was doing for him. 

Pulling on her shoulders slightly, he guided her up to his mouth and kissed away the worried question she had on her lips. He rolled her gently over and nestled himself against her still clad centre. He ground himself down, swallowing the groan he proudly admitted he made erupt from her. 

“Just tell me when to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” she breathed as she reached between them and undid her jeans and shimmied out of them followed by her knickers. 

There was nothing between them now, and he pressed his forehead against hers. Their eyes locked, shining with more emotion than he was, frankly, comfortable feeling. “Hermione . . .” 

“Please, Harry, I need you.” 

The warmth of being inside her was amazing. She was so tight, and for a brief moment he wondered if this was her first time, but she withered under him in a way that showed her pleasure at being filled. Her fingers tightened over his arse and she raised herself to meet him. He only stayed still, buried deep inside her for a moment, before he began to move in a slow rhythm. She was beautiful, and he watched as her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth opened just slightly as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. 

He kissed her and ran his fingertips lightly down her side and back up again to pinch her nipples. She gasped and he smiled against her lips, picking up speed. It wasn’t long before she was panting heavily, pleading for him to go harder. As her climax washed over her, Harry knew that there wasn’t anything more in the world that could take away his pain other than the sight of this woman coming undone for him. His release was right behind her, filling her with every bit of himself uncaring to anything outside of this hideaway they were in. He rolled to the side and pulled her against him, both panting in an attempt to catch their breath.

She didn’t say anything but rested her head on his chest. They laid that way for a long time, staring out into the Scottish landscape. Blessedly, their image was of a bit of mountain that wasn’t blemished by the terror of what happened a few hours ago. Soon, she was sleeping, her breath slow and even, her head heavy against him. He wrapped the invisibility cloak around them both, letting the world go on without them for a time. 

Burying his nose in her curls, he inhaled sharply only to pull back suddenly. She roused a bit, but Harry quickly shushed her and pulled her tightly against him. She stilled against him and he was grateful, as the scent from her hair had assaulted his already fraying nerves. The smell of smoke, sweat, and blood triggered the ache deep inside him. The one that he couldn’t pin down. It was throbbing and raw, filled with a pain so deep all he wanted to do was forget about it. Mentally shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts, he grazed his fingertips over the naked thigh of the girl that slept in his arms. 

His cock twitched, and he decided that there was something that could rid himself of the horrible ache. Luckily, she was right here. It didn’t take much coaxing to wake her, and soon his brain was blissfully only aware of a gorgeous witch atop him, her soft curls brushing his shoulders as she sank down on him.

* * *

She woke naked and chilled a short time later. For a moment, everything felt surreal, but the dull ache between her legs brought her back to the very real present. She sat up suddenly, looking all around her, but was rewarded a second later with the form of Harry only a metre away. He leaned against the wall of their sanctuary, staring out the window into the wide expanse of the Scottish mountains. She couldn’t see his face, but his posture told her all she needed to know. 

“Harry,” she whispered. He didn’t turn, but she watched as his shoulders tensed. “Harry, none of this is your fault.” 

He whirled on her, his eyes rimmed with red and the darkness underneath more prominent than she’d seen in the months they’d been on the run. “You don’t know anything,” he spat, spit flying from his lip. He blinked and ran his hand through his hair before turning away from her again. “I’m sorry,” he said, in a shaky tone. “I can’t forgive myself for what I did to you. I’m so sorry.” 

Silently, she dressed and moved her way towards him. She reached out to touch him, but as her hand brushed his shoulder, he stiffened and she stilled her movements. “Harry, what’s going on?”

Turning his face farther from her gaze, he held stiff. She wasn’t sure what to think or expect from him. She wasn’t shy to his moods, she frequently ventured through the highs and lows of what was now quite common in Harry’s life. He’d been through so much already, but she wasn’t choosing this moment to turn away from him. Instead, she stayed quiet and slowly moved behind him, wrapping her arms under his and around his chest. Laying her cheek against his back, she breathed deeply, letting the smell that was so Harry calm her nerves. He seemed to do the same and relaxed against her touch. A moment later, he moved his hands to wrap around her own and they stood that way for some time - just sharing in each others energy. 

Finally, he shifted against her and moved to turn in her arms. She tensed and refused to let him pull away from her. “Easy, Hermione, I just want to look at you,” Harry said, a smile evident in his voice. 

Slacking her grip, she let him shift, and was relieved when he wrapped his arms around her again. Looking down at her, his eyes held such emotion that it strained her heart in ways she didn’t know was possible. Surely, after everything they’d already been through, there was no more pain possible to feel. It hit her at that moment, there was more pain. He was about to deliver it straight to her heart too. 

He pulled her chin up, his fingers were soft against her flesh. “Do you know how much you mean to me?”

She shook her head, tears silently flowing her cheeks. “No, Harry, what are you doing?” 

His face was set, she could tell. She’d seen him in this type of moment before, resolve at being brave, his own needs put to the side to be the one to put others first.

“Hermione,” he said softly, kissing her cheek, “I love you.” 

“But?” 

“I’m so sorry I took advantage of you. You need to understand, it was more than that for me, but at the same time, it wasn’t.” He sighed, and his eyes looked so pained. 

Using his pause as her moment to intervene, she spoke, “No, Harry. You didn’t do any such thing. Do you understand that? I was an active part of what happened.”

Smiling slightly, he tightened his grip around her. He took a deep breath and stiffened for a moment. Turning his head away from her and towards the open window, he inhaled again before slowly telling her, “I can’t stay here. I have to leave.” 

She gasped, her fingers automatically interlocking behind his back in an attempt to keep him against her. Words couldn’t come, but tears still silently traced down her cheeks. He watched her, his face impassive, almost expressionless. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t even understand what it is I’m trying to tell you, but what happened between us,” he clamped his jaw hard, his biceps flexing against her, “Look, I can’t exploit you like that again. I have to leave - I have to fix what’s different inside me.”

She shakily let out her breath and moved a hand gingerly through his hair. He closed his eyes against her touch, and she hoped he’d heed her words. “I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out together. At least let me go with you, okay?” 

He shook his head, his green eyes swiftly opening and flashing slightly. He moved away from her towards the opening in the wall. “No, I need to do this alone, and I need to do it now,” he stated firmly. “I don’t want to be talked out of this by anyone.” His voice was hard and determined. There was something about the edge in it that called Hermione to question him, but in the moment all she really felt was completely hurt and betrayed. 

“But, Harry, I’ve been here for you. I’ve not ever left you. Why are you doing this? I don’t have anyone but you.” Her resolve was quickly failing her, and she could feel the burning behind her eyes and her heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute, each thud more painful than the previous. 

“Hermione, no, this isn’t about you. Fuck, no, please. That is not what this is.” He moved the few steps to look her in the eyes. For a moment, she thought he was going to change his mind, but he ran his hand through his hair and she knew he was resolved to his decision. “Look, I can’t explain, but please . . . we have so many memories together. Hold onto them. Hold tight, and I’ll be back . . . when I can.” 

Silence filled the tiny space. She opened her mouth twice before the vile words came tumbling out perfectly timed with the tears now flowing hotly down her cheeks. “Fuck you, Harry Potter.” His eyes widened, and she knew that was probably the first, and now it seemed to be the last time he’d ever hear her swear like that. Anger coursed through her body and mind, but it didn’t overcome the intense heartache that made her breath hitch and her next words come out so much harder than she wanted. “I don’t want memories, I want you.” 

He hung his head, the shame evident across his brow and hesitantly pulled her into his chest. She stood ridgid at first, but the feel of his arms wrapped around her had always been a comfort and she felt her anger seep away. She wrapped her arms around him too and they clung even tighter to each other. She could tell it was in vain, though. He’d made up his mind. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her curls.

Tensing at his words, she locked her eyes with his and watched as he leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. He hesitated for a moment and she closed her eyes as he kissed her cheek. All she could do was stand in his arms, eyes closed, her breath as even as she could maintain. When she knew she could look at him without tears, she opened her eyes to find him patiently waiting for her. He held her gaze for a moment before he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. 

“I love you, Hermione. Please don’t hate me. I’ll be back when I can.” 

There was nothing more she could do, short of casting a charm or hex. Words refused to come forward, and so she found herself just watching him as if she was the one who had been placed under an Immobulus spell. Moving from her hold, he grabbed a broomstick, something she now noticed he must have summoned while she still slept. The beating of her heart began to shallow its rhythm as he mounted the broom. Taking a deep breath, she reached out to him, the word _ wait _ on her lips, but she was too late. Without a backward glance, he took off into the sky that was beginning to dim into dusk once again.

**Author's Note:**

> A nod to I_was_botwp for the unintentional prompt, "I don't want memories, I want you." It really helped me seal up this story for the time being so I made it to the deadline. I did my best to make this bit feel complete. However, I do have more to this story. I would love to add a second part, but I am not sure when that might be. For now, thanks for reading, and happy Harmony shipping!


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